


Tip: Go Out With me

by DollyPop



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, F/M, Fluff, it's fluff, surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 07:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4050694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollyPop/pseuds/DollyPop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marie works at a flower shop. Stein is allergic to flowers. And Spirit can't get his own damn bouquets for the dates he miraculously lands on Tinder. </p>
<p>A story in which Spirit uses his best friend as a delivery boy and the delivery boy gets lucky with the flower girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tip: Go Out With me

Often, Stein finds himself questioning his relationship with Spirit. Namely, the question of why they have one. Being friends with Spirit was akin to taking care of a child: thankless. And moreover, Spirit evidently had no sense of Stein’s wellbeing. 

“No,” Stein said, the phone resting against his cheek. 

“Please, Stein! I need these flowers! I’d be a terrible date if I didn’t bring something.”

“You’ll be true to yourself from the beginning, then.”

“Do you just want me to suffer alone forever?”

“You act as though this woman is going to last longer than a single evening. The probability of her remaining-“

“Stein!”

“The answer is no.”

“But, Stein! If I don’t bring her flowers she won’t want to date me. And if she doesn’t want to date me I’ll be single. And when I’m single I spend more time with you.”

Stein paused for a moment, weighing how valuable being free of Spirit was. 

It was priceless. 

He sighed. “What’s the address?”

 

Spirit had told him that the elderly woman who placed his order would just ask for his ID since Spirit said a man named “Franken Stein” would pick up his flowers. Stein wanted to throttle Spirit when he heard that, since it implied that Spirit had simply expected to have Stein become his delivery boy. 

After getting two bachelors, one masters, and a PhD, Stein felt the job was just a tad insulting from his “friend”.

However, an elderly woman he was expecting and an elderly woman was the last thing he got. When he stepped into “Sunny Day Flower Shop”, he saw a woman who must have been the personification of a sunflower. 

Stein blinking, feeling massive in the small shop. The chime of a bell tied to the door alerted the woman of his appearance and she looked up, a golden eye meeting his olive. She smiled warmly. 

“Good afternoon,” she said, soft and lilting. “Is there anything you’d like help with?”

Stein blinked once more before he tentatively stepped to the counter, attempting to avoid the masses of flowers. “I’m picking up an order,” he informed.

She nodded, wiggling the mouse to the computer in front of her. “Alright. Which order?”

“For Spirit Albarn.”

He assumed the orders were in alphabetical order based on last name since she didn’t have to scroll very far to see Spirit’s name. She perked up. “Alright, Mr. Albarn. Could I just see your ID, please?”

Stein shuddered at the misunderstanding. “I’m not Spirit. I’m simply picking up his order.” Despite the fact that Stein could get called into surgery practically any second of any hour of any day, may he add. 

Her face seemed to warm. “I-I’m so sorry! I just assumed-“

Stein nodded, once, somewhat sharply, and held out his driver’s license, the one he had grimaced for and squinted in. She seemed too mortified to pay much attention, and accepted it wordlessly. Quietly, she scampered to a glass case behind her, to her right and opened it to pull out a small bouquet. 

Blushing, the woman walked back to the counter and rung him up. In a small voice, she meekly told him the amount and he pulled out what Spirit had given him. “Thank you,” he said, and rushed out of the shop before he broke out into hives. 

 

“I despise you,” Stein said when Spirit opened the door, his red hair perfectly coiffed and his suit pressed. Stein had half a mind to toss the flowers into his face. 

“Aww! Stein! Flowers for me? You shouldn’t have,” Spirit teased, plucking the blooms out of his friend’s hand along with the receipt. 

“Ha,” Stein responded. 

“Thank you, though,” Spirit said, before he glanced at the receipt in his hands. His brows furrowed. “Where’s the change?”

“In the flower shop,” Stein said, simply, already turning to go.  
“What? Did you forget it?”

Stein paused for a moment before he looked over his shoulder. “No. I tipped her. Since your date has a 78.36% chance of ending fruitlessly, I presumed you’d be buying more.” 

 

Stein was correct, as per usual. Spirit’s date went lousy. Evidently, wailing about your divorce is a turn off. Who knew? The problem was that Spirit’s dates were continuously lousy, but he refused to put down his phone or uninstall “Tinder”. And he was likely eating up Maka’s college fund with how many flowers he’d been buying. 

Before, he had a date every few days, but it slowed down to once a week when he realized that he was, in fact, shelling out a lot of money.  
Stein almost prefers the days when Spirit could just buy a cheap bottle of whiskey and be content. 

In any case, he had frequented the flower shop multiple times after that since Spirit was too much of a primma-donna to get his own things. And Stein just wanted to shut the red-head up. But, also, he found that he was almost starting to tolerate going to the shop. 

He had a hypothesis that being around so many florals was forcing his body to adapt and perhaps he was eradicating his allergies. He still had that familiar itch when he stepped in, but it was less noticeable. 

It certainly had nothing to do with a tan, small, blonde-haired woman who worked the counter and always smiled at him. She seemed to sense that he didn’t like talking about himself or in general, so she filled their transactions with idle chatter, keeping Stein’s mind off of things. 

Something about her was calming, really. 

 

Most of their meetings were unimpressive. Most of the time, she would grin when he walked in, saying “Stein” in greeting to which he would nod. 

She got into the habit after she tried tacking on a “Mr” several weeks ago and he grimaced so hard she had to bite her lip to prevent laughing. He came around frequently enough that it was prudent for her to know his name anyhow, but he didn’t know her own. She never wore a nametag, and she must have forgotten or believed she told him at one point or another. 

After that, she usually followed the script. She would ask: “Same as per usual?” despite the fact that she would be in the middle of pulling up Spirit’s name on her computer and reaching for the flowers. 

Stein would nod, she would ring him up, and he would leave. 

 

**Slowly, they began to have conversations. Small things. Sometimes, sarcastic.**

“You can presume that when I am here, I am here for his order,” Stein had said, looking down at the blonde whilst she smiled at him. 

“Are you giving me permission to be presumptuous?” she’d asked.

Stein had smirked. “Yes. The permission is granted.”

“Would it still be presumptuous, then?” She had looked up at him with something glowing in her eyes.

“No, no. It’s always presumptuous to assume: permission or no.” Stein didn’t remember when he’d leaned against the counter. 

**Or, she would get embarrassed, like the time she accidentally swore around him.** He’d been teasing her, starting the conversation off by listing the flowers by species to which she’d laughed.

“You’re such a smartass,” she claimed happily before what she said caught up to her. “I-I mean—not that you’re an ass! Not at all! I-I just-“

Stein, for some reason, felt a chuckle bubble in his throat. “It’s quite alright. I am, in fact, rather smart.”

She looked up at him, one eye forever obscured by her bangs, seemingly surprised. “Y-yeah,” she said, looking flustered. “You are.”

**Or, he’d be frank with her.**

“You get embarrassed rather easily,” he said, often, casually. He liked the way red fluttered over her shoulders and neck. 

**Or, she’d reveal little snippets of herself and he’d, somehow, do the same.**

“I’m still new here. I don’t want to make a bad impression. . .especially since you’re our most frequent customer.”

Stein cracked another smirk. “And yet, I’ve bought nothing.”

“Well, you don’t like flowers, right? No shame in that.”

He was slightly surprised that she remembered. “They make me sneeze,” he revealed. 

She grinned. “It’s the pollen. They made my dad sneeze, too. My mum opened the shop just to spite him, I think.” 

 

Most of the time, it was hard for him to believe that he spent extra time in the shop, talking with her and surrounded by the infernal blooms. It always ended the same, though. He would pay with Spirit’s money and put what was leftover into the tip jar, to which she would attempt to protest. He would give her a look, she would pout, and then smile and he would leave as she waved him off. 

But this time it was different. 

He had walked in while she was wrapping a ribbon around the bouquet and she looked more tired than he’d ever seen her. Not to mention unprepared. Her shirt was rumpled and she just looked as though she desperately needed a good nap. 

But when she looked up at the bell, her face seemed to illuminate. “Evening,” she said as she finished wrapping the ribbon. “Sorry about the mess. It’s wedding season.”

Stein looked at her with something akin to sympathy. She pulled up the same information as usual but she seemed sluggish. 

“Is there anyone who could cover your shift? You look terrible,” he blurted out. 

She blinked at him, seemingly attempting to process what he said. “Thanks,” she replied, dryly. He raised a brow, as though to say “You know what I mean” and she just shook her head. “I’m the only worker here. Mum’s. . .sick. I’m trying to ease the load.” Carefully, she began the transaction. 

Stein looked at her. He didn’t say anything stupid like “I’m sorry” since he knew it wasn’t her fault and she wouldn’t appreciate the false attempt anyway. When “My apologies” slipped out, he practically kicked himself. It was the same damn thing. He tried to cover up his slight annoyance at himself with handing her the payment. 

She looked at him, amused. “It’s fine.” She gave him back the change. “Maybe if you know anyone looking for something part time?”  
He nodded, stuffing the change into her tip jar. “I’ll ask co-workers with children.”

But she had her attention focused on the jar. Suddenly, her smile seemed more. . .flirtatious? She glanced up at him through her eyelashes and swept her bangs off of her eye. 

“Careful there, Mr. Stein,” he didn’t even react to the name, a little too dumbfounded at how sultry her tone was, “I wouldn’t want to get dependant on your generosity.”

He swallowed, looking away momentarily. It gave her enough time to break into a smile and to giggle. “I’m only joking, Stein. Thank you: though I hope you know that you are under no obligation.”

“Of course I know,” he muttered, still looking over her head. She rolled her eyes and reached out to tap him on the arm. He seemed to start a bit and looked back into her eyes. 

Strange, one didn’t catch the light the same. 

She pressed the flowers into his hand, making sure his skin didn’t touch the blooms. Her care was meticulous and surprising. 

“I’m sure Mr. Albarn wouldn’t want to be late for his date,” she teased. 

It had been his cue. “Yes. Thank you,” he replied, going back to the script. He broke their gaze and left with the chime of the bell ringing in the air and the woman undoubtedly waving him goodbye. 

Damn Spirit. 

 

Stein was surgeon. He was the head of his division, the most highly requested doctor, the one with the greatest rate of success. He had spent 63 hours in surgery and walked out with a patient who had been so close to death Stein had to wrestle him from the grim reaper. He had graduated top of his class.

So why was it that he couldn’t even look her in the eye? She wasn’t intimidating in the least. For cripe’s sake, she was maybe 5 foot even! He wasn’t unnerved even when he had a scalpel in his hand and nothing but a split open torso in front of him. 

But she was a little overwhelming. He began to notice the fondness she had for him almost immediately after her little flirtation and suddenly understood why she lit up from within whenever he walked through her door. He had come to expect seeing her every Thursday night. He didn’t really like how he was starting to feel, especially around her. The last relationship he had didn’t end the best. 

Evidently, calling child protective services on your girlfriend was a nail in the coffin. But, seriously: not even Stein was oblivious or heartless enough not to notice how starved and jittery Crona was around their mother. So he was willing to break it off. 

The fact that she didn’t tear his face off was a plus. 

The woman at the flower shop didn’t seem to be anything like Medusa, though. Save for the fact that they looked slightly similar (he had a type, so sue him), they were different as night and day. And whereas his ex was all about taking the lead, which he didn’t mind, the woman at the shop took a softer, slower approach. 

On top of expecting to see her Thursday evenings, he was, strangely, somewhat, looking forward to it. 

Which was why he was surprised when he walked in expecting the warm blond and instead met with a stern looking, elder woman. Her severe gray hair was pulled back tight enough to give her a face lift. 

He approached the counter slowly, finding it strange to go back to square one. “I’m here to pick up an order,” he said, the words tasting foreign. 

The woman eyed him. “Name, please?”

“It’s under Spirit Albarn.”

She typed something in the computer as opposed to what the younger woman would do, which was scroll through until she found the name. The elder woman lifted a brow. 

“Forgive my prying, but it seems as though you order the same bouquet each week. Perhaps a change of pace?” she hinted, shuffling over to the glass case where the small bundle was. Stein pulled out his wallet. 

“It isn’t for me. I’m simply picking it up.”

“I need your ID,” she demanded when she got back and Stein complied. He hadn’t had to take it out since the first few weeks he started coming to the shop. The woman had memorized him. Though, he doubts it would be difficult to forget a face like his, especially after the car accident that splayed a massive scar over his left. 

Strangely enough, the blonde woman’s eye, the one that didn’t reflect light the same, was also on her left. He assumed it was a false eye. When he came to the conclusion, he felt stupid for the kinship he felt with her. 

The gray-haired woman brought him back by handing over his license and informing him of the price. Stein handed over Spirit’s payment.  
He paused after he was given the receipt. 

“May I ask what happened to the woman who’s usually here?” He figured he was better off punching himself in the face repeatedly. He certainly wanted to. 

She looked surprised. “Marie?”

Marie. It was a sweet name. 

He nodded.

“She’s sick. With the flu. I wouldn’t let her come in when she could infect the customers.”

Stein nodded again, looking around the shop and stopping when his eyes caught onto a grouping of flowers in the middle of the display case.  
He didn’t know what the hell he was doing. He didn’t do flower shops. He didn’t do flowers. The closest thing to romance he had gotten to was reading a textbook on snakes when Medusa got one as a pet. 

He sighed after asking himself what in the world he was doing. 

“Could I have the flowers in the case, please?”

The woman looked taken aback by the abrupt request, but she shuffled over regardless, seemingly moving even slower as though to give Stein time to escape. They were rather extravagant. Over the top, really. 

“Are you sure?” she asked, setting the vase down on the counter. When he nodded, she asked if he wanted them wrapped. Stein shifted. 

“Yes.”

She stared at him. “Upgrading for your friend?” she asked as she typed in the code. 

“No,” he replied, pulling out his credit card and swiping it. Her hands were steady as she wrapped them. 

“Alright,” she said, shrugging. “Would you like to write a note?”

She had already moved the powder-blue paper toward him and nudged a pen in his direction. He supposed he didn’t have much of a choice and wrote out a simple message as she pulled out ribbons and twine. 

She was finished before he was, seemingly since he wrote even slower than usual. He was a doctor: his handwriting was usually atrocious even when he slowed. He wished he took that calligraphy class in college. 

Then he kicked himself for thinking that. 

When the woman set about handing the parcel to him, he stopped her, suddenly. “W-would you give these to Marie, please?” He was ashamed that he stuttered. He presumed the gray haired woman was her mother and he doubted he could get any more mortified at his actions. 

Her voice was surprisingly light. “Alright, Mr. Stein.”

He didn’t have the time to cringe with how quickly he ran out the door. 

 

“Momma, I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you. Not the other way around,” Marie whined, wrapping her blanket closer around her shoulders after she was forced to sit down at the table.

“You hush, child,” Mrs. Mjolnir responded, setting down a bowl of broth in front of her sniffling daughter. The blonde sighed in content, beginning to spoon the warm meal into her mouth. Her mother looked at her for a long moment before she leaned against her counter.  
“A man came in, today,” she said, taking a sip from her tea. 

Marie laughed, taking another spoonful. “Men come in every day.”

Her mother smiled slyly. “Yes. But this one bought you something.”

Marie totally paused, taking in the information. “What?” she asked, her eyes wide and excited. “What did he get? Who was it? What did he look like? Momma? Momma!” 

Mrs. Mjolnir laughed, moving out of the room to get the vase. “Calm yourself, child,” she called back. 

Marie was practically vibrating when her mother walked back in and set the vase on the table. Her eyes looked proud and warm. Marie took in the bright, beautiful combination. It was a rare arrangement her mother had felt up to doing. Her health was failing her more recently, so it wasn’t a common occurrence for her to have the strength. Tears filled Marie’s right eye.

“Oh, momma. . .It’s gorgeous. I can’t believe. . .”

Mrs. Mjolnir nodded. “He asked where you were and when I told him you were sick, he bought these for you.”

Marie had reached a hand out to rub a petal. She loved the smell of flowers but her nose was entirely blocked up, which was a shame. She had to take a picture.

“Oh, and he wrote in the card,” her mother mentioned, gently setting it down in front of her daughter. The elder took a moment to caress the top of her daughter’s head. “I’m going to go to bed, dear. Don’t stay up too late.”

Marie waited a few minutes to open the card. She was daydreaming about who had written it, and was afraid to find out if she was wrong. It was a kind thing for anyone to do, but if it was him. . .

Eventually, she had to swallow her fears. Her hands shook slightly when she opened the card and her entire face lit up in a massive grin.  
“Marie: Get well. Take all of your antibiotics.”

She looked downright smitten. 

 

When he walked into the flower shop the next week, it was without Spirit’s order. The man had given up on Tinder, claiming that it was all bullshit, but Stein didn’t want to leave Marie hanging like that. He didn’t know why, but he would feel just a little bit unaccomplished.  
He’d been called a sadist, but he didn’t know he was sprung on self-punishment as well. 

Regardless, Marie was there, her hair tied back with small waves around her face. She was wearing a dress this time, though it was still modest and somewhat casual. 

“Stein,” she lilted when she heard the door. 

“Marie,” he replied. 

“Mr. Albarn just doesn’t give up, does he?” she giggled. 

“Actually, he has,” Stein muttered, and Marie looked confused, glancing at her computer screen and noticing that Spirit’s name was missing. 

“Oh,” she claimed, looking at him. “Then. . .”

“I’m here for. . .um, I’m here to pick up an order.”

She looked curious. “Under which name?”

“Franken Stein,” he said, looking away. He only caught her warm smile from the corner of his eye. When her voice called out, teasingly, he turned back. 

“I need to see some ID, sir.”

He cracked a smirk. “Are you carding me for flowers? I’m over 21.”

She giggled again, her eyes crinkled. “It’s just the rules, sir.”

He complied and she went to grab his order, a whole bundle of lilies, daisies, sunflowers, and tulips: all her favorite flowers. He noticed that she had that familiar flush over her breasts and neck. When she returned, he paid with cash as opposed to card, and she handed back his change, making sure to brush their hands together. 

He immediately went to put the remainder in the tip-jar but she stopped him, her right eye glinting brightly and her smile affectionate.  
“If you could, I’d prefer to give that to the waiter after we go out to dinner.”

He smiled. “That’s awful presumptuous of you, Marie.”

She blushed, just like the first time. “Well, you gave me permission.”

When she stepped out from behind the counter, he handed her the flowers and she took a deep inhale, looking up at him fondly.  
“I did, didn’t I?”

When they walked out, with Marie holding onto his arm, he flipped the sign to closed.

**Author's Note:**

> This couple needs more gushy romance. I need more. 
> 
> My apologies if Stein is OOC. Modern day AU's don't do well with halloweeny madmen. He's preciously awkward, though.


End file.
